


Ninety-Seven Seconds

by ThisDominionIsMine



Category: Pacific Rim (2013)
Genre: F/M, Gen, Hogwarts AU, Qudditch, dorky babus being dorky babus
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-25
Updated: 2014-12-25
Packaged: 2018-03-03 13:32:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 629
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2852582
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThisDominionIsMine/pseuds/ThisDominionIsMine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Crushing on the headmaster's kid is, quite simply, bad. So bad.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ninety-Seven Seconds

Crushing on the headmaster’s kid is, quite simply, bad. So bad. He didn’t even know she was Pentecost’s kid at the start – he had to find out from _Chuck_ ; the staff kids would know each other, but _still._ Raleigh is a fourth-year; why is he being told by second-years about first-years? It’s not as if they’re in the same house.

Chuck is Gryffindor; he must be jealous. Always jealous or smug, Gryffindors – never in the middle, never happy to cede credit, even if their father does teach Defense Against The Dark Arts. Pentecost and Hansen have been here for ages, since McGonagall retired, and they’re supposed to be mates – as much as Pentecost can be mates with anyone – but you’d never count them to have such different kids.  Chuck needs a kick in the arse bad as anything. Australian. Awful good beater, even for a Gryffindor, but no real tact. The last Hufflepuff-Gryffindor game, he almost took Raleigh off his broom with a Bludger. Which let Hufflepuff score a goal. (The Wei triplets are the best Chasers they’ve had in ages, according to Yancy. He kept Chuck busy for the rest of the game once he saw Raleigh regain his seat.)

Mako’s different. Mako’s nothing like Chuck. She’s a first-year taking second- and third-year classes – has “extreme magical aptitude when applied to physical mechanics” or something. People say she’s Hermione Granger come again. Chuck likes to complain about her daddy bending the rules to let her play Seeker for Ravenclaw as a first-year, raising a stink about “What? Is she the Chosen One? Where’s her scar?” It’s Mako who regularly wins games for Ravenclaw  because two of their Chasers – Geiszler and Gottlieb – almost never stop bickering about tactics long enough to actually play. When it counts, they pull together, but normally Raleigh can have a Bludger on top of them before they look at something besides each other.

But Mako. First Ravenclaw-Hufflepuff game of the year, she set a record for catching the Snitch: ninety-seven seconds in pissing rain. Raleigh chased her down afterwards and found her huddled in the library with a tome thicker than his head from chin to crown.

“That was amazing” he’d said as soon as she lifted her gaze. “You’re a great Seeker.”

She blinked. “You had at least three opportunities to send a Bludger towards me, but only took the last one, after it was too late.”

He shrugged. “Chasers are normally the priority.”

“Chasers only make a difference in extremely unbalanced games.”

Raleigh hesitated. “Am I bothering you? I know you’ve probably got schoolwork.”

Mako closed her book slowly, letting the ancient binding creak and stretch at its own pace. Once it was closed, she blew a small cloud of dust off the table. “Your record in other games indicates a preference to aim for Seekers who are within half a pitch of the Snitch, or as soon as they are closer than your teammate.” A pause. “You once sent a Bludger at your own Seeker because you were aiming at the Gryffindor player when they were in a dead heat for the Snitch.”

Raleigh slowly sank into the chair across from Mako. “Kaidonovsky reminds me of that every time she sees me.” (Durmstrang transfer. Fifth-year. When she pats your back, she realigns your skeleton.)

“You broke Tendo Choi’s arm.”

He winced. “Fair.”

Mako studied him with great solemnity for an eleven-year-old. “Next time, do not hesitate. Or I will beat you again.” She tapped the cover of her tome. “There are a number of books on strategy for Beaters.” A smile flashed. “If you can read.”

Raleigh faked a scowl. “I can read,” he’d said. “Point me at them.”

She slid the book across the table, and Raleigh Becket was lost.


End file.
